


rodeo

by Eyesore



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual, Filth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6847231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyesore/pseuds/Eyesore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat rides the hog, and it bucks him off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rodeo

**Author's Note:**

> (Because I'm going through withdrawal, too.)

Traveling a wasteland's not fun and sexy, it's hot and monotonous. Two men who get tired of jerking it to scorched remains of porno mags are bound to come to each other at some point. Spend months with a single person at your side and you have to feel something like love, but it's hardly sweet when a pair of Junkers go at it. 

The first time Junkrat took the pig's cock he'd damn near cried. Pressure, all-consuming, like someone'd shot a cannonball right up his ass and into his guts and the pain was nothing like he'd ever felt in his life. Roadhog hadn't been cruel, but he hadn't been soft either. Gave the little guy some seconds of a breather every now and then before he was at it again and it'd been so long since he'd gotten this kind of indulgence, the big fuck had blown his load within a few minutes. Rat hadn't cared. It was relief from that awful sensation. But fast forward a couple of weeks and you'd think they'd been at it longer than they have. Improvised lube, figuring out what the other likes, and they've turned it into a nasty, quick way to pass the time.

Day two-hundred-and-who-cares in the desert. Makeshift shelter; they've found an oasis of scavenge material in a sand-eaten bunker to last them at least three days. The pair's set up as fast as they always do, but this time, there's the added bonus of an in-tact bed. Both know exactly what to do about it.

First thing's first. Roadhog has his mask pushed up over his mouth so he can use it, because he's eating the kid's ass. It's his favorite way to start them off. Hog'll grease Rat up properly in a minute, but he likes watching the younger man squirm. Something about it is funny, it's satisfying, it gets his dick hard. Rat's always going a hundred miles an hour; he worms that slick, bony body around and each finger and toe twitches. He makes stupid little squeals and yips like bad brakes. 

Roadhog's good at his work. He's a boar that roots around. His tongue's as massive as the rest of him, and it covers a lot of ground when he licks. Dipping into the hole then up over the cleft, over his balls, his uncut shaft and rolling the purpling head near the back of his throat; Junkrat kicks and howls at him for more, completely shameless. At some point Hog's vast hands grip Rat around the hips and yank him up; Hog settles on his mountainous back and lets Rat perch on top of his face. 

Junkrat is quick to fuck his quasi-boyfriend's mouth, playing jackrabbit while Roadhog's stroking himself, languid, building it up and grunting these deep bass noises that ripple and vibrate through Rat's rangy body. Just a minute or so of that before he shoves Junkrat off because the fucker can't endure for shit and it wouldn't be the first time he blew it in seconds. With a whine, a saliva-wet pop and scrabbling fingers both metal and flesh, Junkrat's crawled, jabbed over and down Roadhog's chest and belly. He's not greedy. He's a good boy, the way he gets comfortable on all-fours on Hog's stomach and secures his hand-- the one not-yet blown off its hinges like its brother-- all clammy around Hog's cock. It's as husky and intimidating as the rest of the outlaw's body. Hog clenches up around the thighs; Junkrat's sucking him. Throttling his foreskin with his mouth, trying to wrap those dry lips over his sharp, sharp teeth Hog had to snarl at him to cover the first few times Rat attempted a blowjob. He's learned. Sort of.

"-- Ah-- hell-- !" 

Junkrat spits and chokes on it. He's enthusiastic to the point of hurting himself and it makes Roadhog harder. Got a nice view of his ass from back here, and Hog's placing one hand so giant it can completely engulf the kid's ass cheek right, y'know, _there_. His thumb slides to the hole and presses, circles it. Pries it open, makes Rat moan something weirdly soft and vulnerable as he goes back to blowing that fearsome cock. Rat's got his nose down in it. Smells rank, like piss and humid masculinity and petrol, like Roadhog just soaks his fucking balls in it. 

Hog starts fingering Rat's hole, and his thumb's so calloused he can't feel the hair there but he sees it when it shines just brief in the light; it's as bleach-blond as the unwashed mess on Rat's scalp. Speaking of, Junkrat's garbage at giving head. He tries but it's not enough. It won't get Hog off. Not like his ass does. Rat's sloppy and has no technique. No rhythm. When he licks it's like a desperate dog trying to please its master with the wrong tricks, and when he sucks, he's still scraping his gnarly teeth all over it. Fuckin' idiot--

Hog grabs the back of Rat's head and pumps him on his cock a few times, uses him like masturbation and watches the kid gag and dribble out that thick sort of choke-spit before he shoves him off and starts to rise up. With a shuddering groan, it's like some creature's just awoken from deep-earth slumber. Junkrat scurries to position a foot away, face-down-ass-up on the bed like Roadhog's taught him to enjoy. There's an obscene string of precum stuck to Rat's thigh just sort of dangling there from the tip of his cock, and really, much as the bastard complains he sure as hell likes all of this attention, doesn't he?

"C'mon, lemme have it!" Junkrat can't shut up, his voice teetering between impatience and reverence. Roadhog takes his time. He's in no rush. He grunts and nods to the small tub of scavenged Castrol-- not that it's recognizable with the label burnt off-- shoved carelessly onto a shelf. He watches Rat grab the lube. Junkrat's hands are always shaking and trembling. Happens most when he's extra excited and Hog has to rumble a little in encouragement as he observes Rat doing all the work. Gets a big dense glob of it on his index-and-middle and basically shoves it up in himself, plastering it all over with the finesse of a crackhead and panting already, trying to thrust his ass back into Hog, force the huge guy's cock inside.

Junkrat's frantic for him. So much that it makes Roadhog want to stall even more. See how agitated he'll get. Hog keeps petting his length like he's casually witnessing porn. Hasn't even gotten up on his knees yet to fuck this twitchy little shit. A second later it's obvious he won't have to, because Rat's clambering on top of him again, frustration written on his smudged-up face.

"Gotta do everything myself, do I?! Ya big cunt-- !" 

Junkrat won't ever appreciate edging. He'll never do it willingly. So he doesn't dawdle, taking Roadhog in his slick palm and angling it up into him. He sits. Roadhog groans for him, finishing it off with a pleased, rattling growl. That ass is the tightest, hottest thing he's ever shoved his fat dick into and even if he's matured enough to prefer taking it slow, Rat makes it difficult for him.

Doesn't have to do much himself though because Junkrat's rocking his hips on top of him, starting up another janky not-rhythm. It's hilarious how addicted he is to taking cock when it wasn't long ago the thing was making him weep. Hog's too distracted to laugh, though, grunting as he's jockeyed and placing those huge hands on Rat's waist. They wrap around Rat's middle like the jaws of a flesh-snake. Could crush those skinny-ass bones if he wanted, feeling them move like grotesque liquid under his sunburnt skin. Rat's a-writhe and he's this long, lanky tunnel that squeezes down, clamps his muscles around the width of Roadhog's cock. 

" _Good..._ " 

That low and pleasured growl is what Rat gets for his effort. It forces a manic giggle from the scrawny guy; he loves the praise. Loves the feedback. His blast-stained fingers creep up Hog's broad stomach. His chest. Spreading onto his pectorals and digging in, Rat rides him especially hard for that one, gasping and making himself sweat. He moans. He blushes. Roadhog watches the display. The little fuck transforms when he's on his dick now. The heft of it satisfies something primitive in his boy. That's right, _his_. Junkrat's _his_ just like the bike, like the motor, like the hook and chain he forged to kill, like the whole fucking world. His territory. All his.

He's grabbing Rat harder, bucking up into him in time with the kid's frenetic motion. Bronco. Holds him in place and Junkrat starts whimpering when he does. Up, into him, relentless, a massive snuffing beast underneath someone who couldn't get away even if he wanted to. Rat stops moving. His eyes roll back. His tongue lolls out. He lets Hog use him again because the pig's hitting that _thing_ inside him that feels gratifying to the core. Hog lets his gaze drop lazily to Rat's cock. Drenched in his own fluid. That's all he needs to know he's doing him right.

Junkrat cums before Roadhog does, like always. This time, Roadhog doesn't let him off easy. In a move so quick it jolts Rat out of his orgasmic stupor, Hog wraps a burly arm around him and yanks him flat against his chest. Crushes him, keeps fucking him, and grunts out:

"Didn't say you could cum, did I." 

Rat's hacking, squirming in a sudden panic as Hog's constricting him. He knows he won't do it. Won't kill him, even if he could, easily-- snap his spine and fling him fifty feet away. _Cheers, dipshit_ \--

Roadhog's fast when he wants to be. Two seconds, he's rolled himself over and flipped Rat just the same, smashing him into the creaking bed and fucking him raw. Rat's moved on to wailing. Cursing. Dumbly, trying to gain control again by moving his ass back against Hog like he's in charge of the situation. Hog would chuckle if he wasn't focused on splitting the kid in half. He fucks Rat like he's never felt release. It's easy to trap Rat under him just by going dead-weight. Not enough to actually break him, y'know, just make it dangerous so he can listen to Rat bitch and whine and try not to start moaning again like the slut Hog can make him into. 

The way he's fucking him, Hog's hitting Rat's prostate just right. He's grinding him into the mattress and it's gotta be making Rat painfully hard all over again. Gotta be too much stimulation. So much it hurts. Junkrat tries to contort away but he can't, heaving ragged from his renewed hard-on. He could cum again in a second but Hog won't let up, grumbling into his ear: "Ask me nice, boy..."

And Junkrat struggles his rawbone self to no avail, barking: "-- Get offa me!"

To which Hog snorts and keeps holding him hostage, ramming him into the bed like he wants to screw him into paste. Seconds of that later Rat's changing his tune and wheezing out: "H-Hog... please... lemme..." 

Too bad Roadhog's the boss, always was, always will be; he doesn't think that's good enough. The bed sounds ready to crack, the way Hog's drilling Rat into that one spot over and over again. Again. Again, again, again, til Rat screeches: "-- _Please_!" 

Desperate. So desperate. Hog backs up just enough to slap a hand around to Junkrat's cock and lets the kid rut into his sweaty palm like it's a hole just for him. Predictably, Rat blows his load quick-- second time. Now he pitches forward like he's been punched in the stomach, and the way his ass clenches up is what makes Hog lose it. Thunders like monster-swine as he shoots up hot inside Rat. Full tank. He keeps himself buried balls-deep until he's done and drained, certain his spunk's been caught to the last drop.

It's only then that Hog pulls out and watches it leak from that wrecked hole. _Still got it._ Rat is collapsing away from him with the most dramatic sigh you've ever heard in your life, exhausted for once. Quiet for once. He'll be loud and rambling again before long, but Roadhog's started to feel a sense of relief that he's finally found a way to get Junkrat to shut the fuck up.

He sits, comfortably silent as Junkrat lies in a crumple. He basks in the aftermath. Seconds roll by and Rat pushes himself over onto his back to stare at Hog with something like admiration and embarrassment together. Then Rat grins. That ugly, crooked number of his that shows off his gold canine, and the shame's all gone. The sight makes Hog smirk himself. And even if the mask hides it, he thinks Rat can feel it.

Ain't so bad.


End file.
